Something More to Say
by Nuele
Summary: Even inside the mind of a near-machine, gears will turn. Introspection and self-examination are inevitable. This is Presea's history, as seen through the girl's own eyes.
1. Result of Turmoil

((As a general overview, this is most definitely a Presea-based fic. It will be entirely in her first-person narrative, moving from a period before the game begins, her true childhood, to periods after the game. I will cover some in-game parts, but I don't plan on rewriting any scenes, just mentally- and briefly- expressing Presea's view on them. The beginning will be very dramatic, due to the nature of it, and grow more stoic as Presea herself does. I consider myself a fairly lighthearted person, but those seeking humor need not look here. ...Okay, maybe a little. But mostly seriousness. It goes without saying that reviews are welcome. Whoops. Said it anyway. Seriously though, ream me on this if you want. Constructive criticism is the win. Hope you enjoy.

I don't own these characters, obviously, they... Were good ideas. Consider that your disclaimer.))

One might readily assume, after hearing my history from a third personage, that the period of my life in which I served that heartless man was consumed by an omnipresent darkness; a complete ignorance and heartlessness to the entirety of my surroundings. That would only be partially true. However contradictory or oxymoronic it may seem, I could see everything and nothing at once. I gained intelligence but lost intellect; my mind failed while my brain matured; my body grew strong while my innards decomposed- heart and soul festering. Emotions were inefficient and expendable, and so they were readily deleted. This was my nature- perfectly efficient; composed, calculating, like a walking piece of magitechnology.

"I am twenty-eight years old," I repeat, kneeling in front of Alicia's grave. My voice cracks somewhat. Regal stands stoically nearby. When, I wonder, will he remove those shackles?

Twenty-eight years. Nearly three decades, far too young for a youth to remain youthful. Alicia... If only I had been more sensible, hadn't been obstinate on such a silly tradition, then maybe I could've left with you and had both our altercations with the exspheres avoided. We could have ended up together, happy. Maybe even Regal too. I know your exsphere is destroyed, but I still feel your presence lingering heavily over this place. Perhaps you can still hear me... You must be confused on how I came here, and on what happened to me. Regardless of whether or not you are listening, I must convey my story, if only for myself.

Sister, these are the lessons of my past.


	2. Realization of Change

It's obvious enough that the best place to start would be the beginning. The origins of my tragedy were innocent, if not, naïve. But you remember all of this, don't you, Alicia? Remember that day, seventeen years ago- one year before that night- when Daddy fell on his way home from the Poison Marsh? I do. That was when I realized he was sick. I had suspected it before, but that was when I first really _knew._ You were too young then, and I didn't want you to worry, so I didn't say anything about it at first. I asked him about it, but of course, he denied it. It wasn't until much later, half a year almost, that he would finally admit to us that he was ill- not that he even had any choice by that time. I already knew it, like I said, and I think you did too. There was a certain quietness you held when he would have a coughing fit, and a particular way you bowed your head sadly if he struggled under the weight of the wood.

Remember now? Daddy came home late that night, after dark had already set. We were waiting for him on the porch; the dinner we cooked had gotten cold. We both grew very worried. You looked scared- I was too. When he finally got home, a man had an arm around his back to help him walk. He was breathing raggedly and covered in all manner of muddy filth. You and I jumped from the porch and ran to them.

"Is he drunk?" I asked, pretending to be ashamed, but actually hoping that was the case. I knew it wasn't.

The man shook his head and Daddy didn't talk. I saw your eyes get very wide and misty, and then you darted inside the house, the door slamming behind you.

"...What happened?" I asked, not sure I wanted an answer.

The man waited before answering, choosing his words delicately. "I can't say for sure. I found him lying like this in the marsh."

I could tell I winced; something inside me cried out. To hide my grief, I demanded, "What were you doing in the marsh? That ground is holy."

He nodded. He knew. He was from Ozette, I recognized him, and he knew that our father was the man who harvested the Sacred Wood. "Are you Presea?"

With an exhalation declaring defeat, he realized I wouldn't be satisfied until I had my answer. "Your dad has gotten weak in his illness. He's hired me to help him these past few weeks. We separated for a few minutes, and then I found him like this."

So it was true. My lips quivered as I bit back tears. "You had no right," I began to scold, my voice wavering. Though I didn't intend it to, my next sentence came out as a blubbering shriek. "That's _my_ family's duty! That's _our_ job!"

The man stared back at me, surprised. Saline tears stung at the corners of my eyes. I don't know why that made me so angry... Perhaps it was just because I was upset at the fact that our father had fallen ill without even telling us. I had been fearing for his life, and he wouldn't even admit to anything being wrong.

"I... I'm sorry..." he stuttered at length. When I only balled my fists and clenched my teeth in reply, he continued. "Your father, he asked me, practically begged me-"

"Tradition!" I wailed, stamping my foot.

"Presea!" Finally, our daddy spoke, though he sounded pained and didn't bother to raise his head. There was a long pause, and then he sighed, asking to be taken inside.

That was the night we cried together, Alicia. The man led father inside to tend to his wounds and clean him, and I took you outside. We sat on the fallen log and just wept for a long time. We were both confused, but more than anything, we were hurt. It became clear to me that life as we knew it up until that point was over, and that frightened me so badly. After I had shed all my tears, you continued to bawl. That was the last time I cried in my life. As I pressed your shuddering frame to my side, hugging like it was you that were sick, I realized that I would have to continue our family's duty. Traditionally, it would have been for the eldest brother to fulfill the position, but mother- may Martel accept her soul- had died young, and bore only we two children. I was too young. Even a male my age wouldn't have begun to wield father's axe yet, but I knew that to preserve our family's dignity, I must begin to learn. I made no vow that night, but rather, I discerned my obligations. I did not have to promise myself I would be strong; that was already to be expected of me.

Shortly after that revelation, the man who had been tending to father exited the house and approached us again. He first looked from you to me, and then introduced himself as a human named Derryl. He proceeded to apologize to me again and again, even mumbling a few in your direction. You were still fighting tears back. I had lapsed into quiet anguish. We both sat there, silent as the sleepy town not far in the distance. Derryl continued to speak, hoping to evoke either relief or forgiveness from one of us.

"...He should be fine tonight," Derryl pressed on. I had tuned out while he prattled forward for a few seconds. "I'll send the doctor as soon as I return to the village. If he leaves at once, he could be here within twenty minutes." Derryl was clearly a strong man, but lean and tall as well. He was dressed plainly, like any other hard-working man in the area, with the same kind of feature I recognized of the men in town. Short haired, average in looks, and, all in all, very plain and normal. Such was the way of Ozette. Let's see- How old was I, eleven? Yes, that was it, weeks away from my twelfth birthday. That would make you... Close to four months away from being ten. Derryl must've been my elder by seven or eight years.

I don't know what kind of reaction Derryl was trying to provoke by telling me such things, but I gave him nothing. I think it made him sad that he couldn't console us. I must have looked awfully bleak.

After a few minutes, he sat beside me, keeping his distance, and began to speak again. "I'll take your father's place while he ails," he offered somberly. "I'm sure this will pass. It must."

"No," I replied so simply that it must have sounded cold.

"No, no," he insisted. "I want to help you two, as well as your father. He was-" color drained from his face- "that is to say, he is a good man. I won't charge anything."

I crossed my arms and faced him, my cheeks growing hot. "_I_ am going to harvest the Sacred Wood."

Derryl looked startled. "But-"

"You are not of my line," I stated in a tone as dignified as my voice could muster. "It is not your right."

"I get it," he replied tartly, rising up. I suppose I offended him. That was not my intent, but it had to be said. "When the Church is breathing down your neck for that wood," he continued, "just maybe then you'll think otherwise." He began to walk off, then turned back around. "I guess you'd rather have the Papal Knights tearing down the trees, huh? Fine by me."

I stared back grimly. Derryl left.

When we went back inside, Daddy was already asleep, so we decided it was best to let him rest. You went to bed, too. I wasn't sleepy. I just went outside and sat on the porch again.

It was about twenty minutes later when another stranger came down the path to our home, but it wasn't the doctor. Rather, it was a brunette woman dressed in a prudent white skirt and blouse, with blue leggings and a white cap that I recognized as a nurse's. She had a general calm and quiet aura about her, and by that I knew she wasn't from nearby. Ozette women were just as civil as she, but they always seemed to be making a fuss about something. They couldn't contain their boldness. Nor did they cross their wrists over their laps and walk so properly as she.

"Hi," she greeted warmly as she reached the porch steps. "Are you one of the daughters?"

"I'm Presea," I rejoined eagerly, standing up. Finally, some real help. I would've preferred a doctor, but she was the next best thing. "Can you help my daddy?"

She patted my head, making her way past me to the door. "I hope so. I will see what I can do."

"He's trying to sleep," I warned. "Alicia too."

The nurse paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Oh? In that case, perhaps I should come back tomorrow."

I deliberated with that thought for a moment. He did need help as quickly as he could get it, but he really seemed like he needed his rest as well.

"I'll see what I can do," the woman echoed in answer to the question I never answered.

We proceeded into the back bedroom that our beds shared. I sat on one of the finely handcrafted chairs that resided in the room while she went to his bedside. We talked while she did a quick physical examination of the patient. I found out that her name was Erica, she was from Sybak, and she was training to be a full doctor. That required a certain amount of field training, so that sent her out to Ozette. She told me the doctor had been busy with a flu epidemic and probably wouldn't make it for at least a couple days. And I told her what had been happening in our household these past few months.

Father stirred only slightly as Erica looked him over. Every once in a while she'd stop to jot something down on a pad, tutting and shaking her head. I could tell, too. His eyes were watery, his breathing irregular, his skin clammy. I had seen this before, but regrettably, I blocked it out. She learned from me that his fingers trembled when he held a fork, that he drew breath raggedly when he returned from work, and that sometimes he stumbled and fell under the weight of the Sacred Wood. I learned from her that- and she was only telling me this because she thought I was a big girl- that although she wasn't sure what was wrong, it was very possible that Daddy was dying.


	3. Price of Honor

((I haven't updated in a long long time. Oops. ; Sorry if anyone was looking forward to something. But... Here it is now, hm? Enjoy.))

After the news, I didn't mourn. It wasn't that I was heartless- at least, not yet- but it was to be expected. After Erica wrote a few more things down, she promised to return the next morning and left, curtly bowing out the door. She left me in a state of sullen despondency, and suddenly, I felt very old. I often received compliments about being wise for my age, despite my small stature and girlish looks. Up until that point, I had always assumed it was just adults being nice. Now, I realized, such depths of maturity were more of a burden than a gift.

I didn't sleep that night. My eyes remained dry, but that not mean I felt no sorrow. Actually, I had stayed up many nights weeping before that one, because of my fear for him. Why hadn't he just admitted before that something was wrong? I had to worry about myself, too. I still had my heart set on taking up his work, but had no hope if I was incapable of taking up the ceremonial axe. I was a little stronger than most girls at my age, but I was still a very weak being.

In the days that followed, I persisted in my attempt to wield the great axe. In three days time, I succeeded in being able to drag it behind me, though still with great difficulty. It was still a long way off from my goal. Every morning, Erica would arrive and take a daily diagnostic before administering some medicine she had helped to create back in Ozette. Father insisted on paying her large sums of gald, but she refused, insisting that her wages from the doctor and the training experience were more than enough. Other than that, he didn't try to speak much, except to shower us with affection or apologies. We comforted him in return. Every now and then he would rise from bed and walk around outdoors. He didn't seem much sicker than he did a few weeks ago, but he was still tired all the time. In between his random walks, he mostly just slept.

Finally, on the fourth day after the incident, Erica arrived accompanied by the local doctor. He was a short, stern man with a rigid countenance that never allowed the smiling reassurance his nurse often showed. His only greeting was a curt nod, and then he went straight to work- and truthfully, that was something I was grateful for. The rest of us were ushered outside with Doctor Baym requesting complete concentration. To keep our minds off the distressing situation at hand, you played pretend outside by yourself while I continued to fiddle with the axe. Erica watched us intently from a short distance, waiting to scurry into the house should her aid be called upon.

After a short time, she approached me in her normal, casually graceful way. I had been trying to raise the tool parallel to the ground and walk with it, so far making no successful attempt. I dropped it one last time and stomped my foot with an angry cry, furious with myself.

"Presea," the woman addressed me placidly.

I sighed and dropped my shoulders, calming myself. "Yes?"

She knelt over the axe, straightening her skirt beneath her before setting her hands on her knees. Her eyes ran thoughtfully along the wooden handle. "What're you doing with this weapon?"

"It isn't a weapon," I replied defensively. "It's a tool," Daddy's words echoed in my mouth, offering the same explanation he always gave. "A tool of great ceremony."

Erica looked into my eyes, examining them with her own wise gaze. "I see…" she mused, and I knew that she did. She was a very intelligent woman.

"Tell me, Presea, why do you want to wield it so badly? I've seen you every day, sometimes for hours at once, trying to raise it."

She already knew the answer to that.

"He's got no right."

"…What was that?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow at me.

"If Derryl asks again," was my flat response, "tell him he's got no right."

The nurse rose and stepped over the axe, placing a hand on my shoulder. "No, this is not about Derryl. You are too young for such a responsibility. I don't want to see you hurt. It's very noble of you to try, but-"

"But I have to!" I cried, shrugging away her touch while taking a step back.

"Dear, be sensible-"

"I am going to use that axe!" I flung out a hand and pointed at the thing. "Daddy can't, Alicia can't- I must!"

The woman crouched and clasped my shoulders with either hand, looking at me with such intense and caring eyes that implored sensibility I could not fathom. I could only flinch and look away.

"Presea- Presea, Look at me!"

Lips trembling as I neared the point of hysteria, I did so.

"Listen. As you are now, you _cannot _use that axe. It's dangerous, and the marshes are dangerous- you could get yourself killed! Then who would carry on your family's right? What would become of Alicia?"

I lowered my eyes shamefully, finding truth in her worlds.

Erica released me and stood. There was a long pause between us. I noticed you had stopped to watch us, ever curious.

"…Why do you care so much about me?" I asked, almost resentful of the fact that she had made me feel so reasonably guilty.

"I care for everyone," she replied softly, turning to wave and smiled at you. You laughed and waved back, and then continued in your play. "I want to be a doctor, remember?" The woman smoothed back her hair, adjusting her cap and skirt. That was the first and only time I ever saw her fall out of her calm composition. She was normally very collected, very proper.

By this time, the doctor had opened the door to our home and cleared his throat to acquire everyone's attention. We all stopped and turned to hear his diagnosis. What followed was nothing more than a blur to me. Doctor Baym muttered something to Erica, who declared that she should be the one to tell us because we had grown friendly over the past few days. She gathered us beside her, knelt down, and began to speak.

My heart froze.

I might as well have been deaf. It was obvious what she was going to say, yet I couldn't bear to listen. I think she knew everything the day she arrived, but didn't want to say anything without the doctor's opinion. In this instant, I was heartbroken. It was a silly thing, but I felt like they had betrayed me simply to hurt me. Daddy, Erica, and Baym, all involved in some malicious conspiratorial plot simply intended to crush a pair of little girls. Of course, that was all childish delirium.

The weeks to come were intensely painful, but sufferable. Daddy continued to slowly get worse, infected by some virus that was previously unknown to me. It seemed as though he had contracted it in the marsh, which because of its name, made perfect sense.

My twelfth birthday came. I suppose the villagers felt sorry for me, because a small group of them came over and cooked us a nice dinner. I got a new dress that a few of them had hand stitched, the purple one that I wear now. I had been enthralled by it at the time, as I have never had a hand for sewing. You, though, were more skilled than I, and using whatever money you had saved up for materials presented me with a fanciful hair ribbon, which, I don't always wear, but still keep with me today. I received one last gift before that day ended, from the nurse who had not failed a day to appear at our house shortly after the sun began to rise on the horizon. She had, in that difficult time, become very close to us, not a mother and not quite a sister, rather, sort of guardian- angelic, almost. In any case, she gave me a leather belt attached to a hip pack that fitted snugly around my waist. The group prodded me to try everything on, and newly clothed and accessorized, I managed to enjoy the day. After all, what child does not seek comfort in her own birthday?

A few more days rolled by, uneventful, until Erica came one morning, excited about something. That day she wore light brown slacks with a matching overcoat covering her blouse. She had stopped wearing her uniform weeks ago, figuring it was unnecessary after coming to friendly terms.

"Presea!" she burst out anxiously, catching me by the shoulders before she even went to her patient.

Her rushed and excited tone betrayed her normally calm state, surprising me. The most I could do was return a meek "Hi- what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. But I think we may have a way to help you take your father's place!"

My eyes lit up like Luna herself. "I… H-how?"

The nurse led me over to the porch step, sitting before beginning to explain her solution. "My brother- well, half-brother, really- is a research scientist who works in Sybak," she began, attempting to control herself as she spoke. "We like to keep in touch, but the journey is a bit difficult, so we communicate with each other through mail. I've been telling him about you and your sister, and he's been telling me about what he's been working on lately. Right now, his team is doing some work for the church. It's very secretive, so he couldn't reveal too much. He did tell me, though, that if your body complies with their requirements, he might be able to give you something that will make you stronger. You are specially bred- Do you know what that means, Presea?"

I nodded. "Daddy's family is important. Only we have the right to harvest the Sacred Wood."

Erica frowned at that. "I've told you, that's just a silly church tradition. Anyone can timber that wood."

Normally, I would have snapped at someone for saying that, but because she was my friend and trying to help, I let Erica continue.

"Anyway, it's that tradition that makes it very likely your body will be acceptable. Your lineage seems appropriate." She paused her speech, letting that sink in for a moment. "The only catch would be…" Here, she hesitated, unsure of how to continue. "Well, to put it bluntly, you'd be the subject of a science experiment."

For a few minutes, I sat silently and thought. Sybak was far away, beyond the deadly Gaoracchia forest. But the woods, the experiments, and the time away from home were probably the only way. If I did not begin delivering wood soon, I was bound to discover the consequences.

I looked Erica straight in the eyes, declaring, "I'll do it. I'll go."

She bowed her head solemnly, her previous mood having faded. "I'm glad I could be of some help, but know this, Presea. If it were up to me, I'd be sending you to Sybak for an education. You're so intelligent, and I'd rather see that put to good use for people. I'm offering this to you, not because I think it's the right choice, but because I know it is what you want."

I nodded slowly, then, realizing the gratitude my family owed her, I turned to the woman and threw my arms about her shoulders.

She hugged back, speaking before I had the chance. "Grow strong," she said, her voice sounding as if she were about to cry. "Grow strong so you can do this. And don't you _dare_ get yourself hurt."

I squeezed her in reply, thanking her several times over.

"Listen," the nurse said, interrupting my stream of gratefulness. "I won't let you leave Alicia here. I simply won't."

"…Maybe someone in Ozette-"

She shook her head. "I knew you would say yes, so I already made arrangements for her. Should she accept it, she will leave as a maid in service of a noble family."

"What?" I gasped piteously, releasing her and standing over her, "Alicia- No, she can't be by herself!"

She gave me a look so morose it was obvious she hated what was happening. "No, she can't. That's why she's leaving. I won't have her spending all her time waiting for you to return from Sybak, and then again after each trek from the marsh."

Betrayal by fate… Erica did have a hand in this, but she was right. I would be forced to choose between my family's dignity and my sister's affection. I decided, rather foolishly, that the latter would be selfish. I sank back into a sitting position, my heart dropping along with me. "She'll… Be taken care of?"

"Of course, very well. I made sure of it."

"So if Alicia agrees to everything…"

"Then it's all set. Your father will stay at the doctor's in Ozette. Estimating on his condition, he should still be alive when you return… I'm afraid Alicia may have to say goodbye one last time."

For the rest of that day, I kept my distance. I learned from Erica that you agreed to go- I later felt incredibly guilty, and I still do. You didn't want to leave, but you did anyway, for me. You left mine and father's side for some insane whim to fulfill an unimportant position. What sort of sick pride rendered me so blind? Thank you for not weighing this all on me, Alicia. I could say it a thousand times over, but a simple phrase is not nearly enough.

I'm sorry.


End file.
